


Caught in the Riptide

by MistysGatorTeeth



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/F, One sided relationship, Sarah Paulson hate fic, ShE DiDn’t WaNt To KiSs MiStY, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:59:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22028941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistysGatorTeeth/pseuds/MistysGatorTeeth
Summary: Misty shares Cordelia’s bed but not her heart.
Relationships: Misty Day/Cordelia Foxx | Cordelia Goode
Comments: 7
Kudos: 35





	Caught in the Riptide

**Author's Note:**

> i fucking hate Sarah Paulson take her twitter access away

The faint glow of pale moonlight outlines the white of the curtains, the edges crisp and still with the stillness of a hot, humid summer night in the South. Outside, a car alarm goes off - far enough away to be quiet, but loud enough to funnel down the rows of neat, old money mansions lining their lane. 

Misty holds her breath; her eyes open and staring at the ceiling as she listens to it go off once, twice, three more times until the repetitive beeping again drifts off back into the silence of midnight. She’d breathe out a sigh of relief, but doing so might just do what she was hoping the alarm wouldn’t. Cordelia turns in her sleep next to the younger blonde witch. Her pajama pants rolling up on her calves and her lips parting as her cheeks presses against her pillow after she flips, now facing away from the other woman in her bed. 

It’s only midnight. Misty’s fingers itch to reach out and touch the dip under Cordelia’s nightshirt where her hip is.  _ It’s only midnight.  _ Her eyes close again, it’s much easier to resist temptation when she pretends it is much farther out of reach. Misty knows, that much as she can expect in the morning when Cordelia’s eyes blink open, that Cordelia waking up inevitably ends up in her being  _ kicked  _ out. 

So instead of focusing on the cold, shameful look on Cordelia’s face at six in the morning - the way her robe wraps around her in a plush hug as she dismisses Misty back to the single twin bed pushed against a wall three doors down the hall that doesn’t  _ really  _ feel like her own - Misty’s nose scrunches up as she crinkles her eyes shut tighter.  _ She loves me.  _

_ I love you.  _

She only says in the space between sex and sleeping. Like a memory of a feeling that’s supposed to be there. Cordelia’s eyes will drift shut, and Misty’ll wipe her fingers on the cotton of the sheets wondering if she’ll let her kiss her next time. 

_ It’s not like that,  _ Cordelia would say; in the mornings before when Misty would go to wrap her arms around her when she stirred awake. The tears would pool on her waterline, the  _ Fleetwood Mac  _ shirt on the bedpost would be handed to her and she’d wipe her reddened nose with it before shrugging into it. 

The supremacy, it had to be. Cordelia’s hands still grasped her’s in the greenhouse, her eyes still held affection to them when Misty’s magic sprouted green from dark soil. They didn’t start sleeping together at first -  _ well,  _ they did. But the physical touch and comfort piece of this puzzle had come later. When the nightmares were too much, and the soft petting of Misty’s hair drifted down her back, curving to it. It was tender and sweet. Still, when Misty’s heavy nervous breathing met Cordelia’s cheek, she’d only been allowed to kiss the soft skin there. Cordelia’s head turning to keep their lips from touching. 

_ You’re important to me,  _ came next. Something that tugged on the strings of Misty’s heart. She had asked, simply, “What are we?” once. It was innocent, nested amongst undressing as she climbed into bed alongside the older blonde. It was murmured, and faintly fearful of what answer she’d get.  _ Important _ . The word made her insides glow warmly. 

_ Go back to your room.  _ Less warm, more chilled to the touch. A feeling that an ice cube dropped into her tummy, waking her up from a heated dream.  _ Before everyone wakes up.  _ Misty’s eyes get heavy. Her thoughts feel as if they’re weighing down the lids. Is that it? Did she not want them all to know?  _ I’m good at keeping secrets.  _ Misty can’t help but move closer to Cordelia’s figure until they’re touching. It might not be much, but it’s comforting. It’s more than she’ll get all day. It’s less hurried than their touches in the early part of the night. There are no quick, detached glances that hurt more then Misty would let on. Yes, the touch of their shoulders is enough for her at the least, and with a final few blinks Misty drifts off. 

_ Maybe it’ll be different this time.  _

  
  
  
  



End file.
